


More

by alwaysamy



Series: End!verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-19
Updated: 2010-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-12 00:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysamy/pseuds/alwaysamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel isn't satisfied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime near the beginning of my very vague End!verse. Warnings for over-stim kink.

They're lying on the single king in their current motel room, flushed and sweaty, and Dean's still panting, coming down from an orgasm. They've been at it for nearly an hour, taking advantage of a lazy Saturday afternoon with a case done and nowhere to go yet, mostly because, Cas thinks, Dean wanted to do this instead. So he'd taken his time, pulling out only to turn Dean onto his back so he could kiss him, or getting Dean onto his feet beside the bed again, so he could make the pace faster and harder, and Dean was so boneless by the time Cas laid him out and jerked him off, he's still barely conscious.

He looks beautiful right now, the way he always does after sex, skin still gleaming with sweat, chest and throat flushed, damp hair spiked in a thousand directions. Cas could pull him up onto his side, press up along his back and stroke his belly, and Dean at least would be asleep within minutes, but something that's beginning to feel familiar now unfurls in his chest and it feels like hunger.

He blinks for a minute, considering, before he angles up on one elbow to reach for Dean's dick. It's mostly soft now, sticky with come, and when he closes his fingers around it gently, Dean jerks. It's a whole-body thing, a ripple of pure sensation, and Cas bites back a soft noise of pleasure as he swipes his thumb over the head, into the wet slit, and watches Dean's body react again. Dean groans, stiffening, eyes fluttering open briefly to blink at him.

For a moment, his mouth opens as if he's going to say something, but the words don't come -- Cas is swirling his thumb over the head gently, spreading the slick, and Dean's eyes roll back as they close. He's practically vibrating now, like a struck cymbal, and where his arm is pressed between their bodies, Cas can feel Dean's fingers tighten in the rumpled sheet. Down at the foot of the bed, his toes curl.

Something hot and a little startling flares in Cas's chest. It's power, pushing up beneath the rush of curiosity and desire. Dean's not questioning him, not saying no, even though Cas knows now how oversensitive he must be after such an intense orgasm, and one he waited so long for. He's always a little twitchy after coming.

But his fingers are still moving, and Cas is curious now, wants to take Dean straight into another orgasm, slowly, steadily, just to ... just to see if he _can_. To see if Dean will fall apart, to see how Dean will fall apart.

It's a selfish desire, he knows that, but it's not entirely so. If he does it right, Dean will have more pleasure, and his own penis is starting to stir again where it rests heavy against his thigh.

If he goes too far too fast, it will hurt, he thinks. Now that he knows what orgasm is, he can guess at that much. So he just holds Dean's cock loosely, rubbing his thumb over the head firmly enough that it won't tease or tickle, and leans over to tongue Dean's nipples. The noise that Dean makes is nearly a growl, and Cas smiles as he trails his tongue over Dean's sweaty breastbone from one nipple to the next. As he does, he lets his hand slip down to cup Dean's balls, cradling them lightly, rolling them back and forth.

Dean whimpers, a nearly noiseless sound that catches in his throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut tighter, but he doesn't say no. The long muscles in his thighs tic restlessly, too, but he doesn't pull his legs up, doesn't roll away.

Cas smiles as he presses open-mouthed kisses to Dean's belly, letting his tongue draw careful circles around the neat pucker of his navel. Dean wriggles a little, grunts softly, and Cas increases the pressure, lapping at the skin and pressing firm kisses to Dean's abdominal muscles, drawn taut now. When he slides one finger down to trace the swollen rim of Dean's hole, Dean grunts again, and Cas looks up just as he opens his mouth.

"Cas ..." It's part question, part plea, but his half-lidded eyes are drowsy, content enough. Cas holds his gaze as he inches down the mattress a little bit, until he leans down to lick the flushed, sticky head of Dean's cock. He bucks then, but Cas slides his free arm across Dean's hips to hold him in place, and when he pushes his index finger into the sticky wet mess of his hole, Dean sobs out a breath of surprise.

"Cas." It's more insistent this time, but Cas just murmurs, "Shhhh," and strokes the slick, heated walls of Dean's hole before he takes the crown of his cock in his mouth. It's all musk and salt now, with the darkly sweet taste of Dean beneath it, and Cas is drooling after a minute, suckling harder at the head.

Dean's twisting, sobbing out sharp, broken noises as he pants, but he's grinding back on Cas's finger, too, fucking himself down on it as he clutches at the sheets. Cas is nearly fully hard again himself, and he shifts on the mattress, letting the head of his dick drag against the sheets. He opens his mouth wider, relaxes his throat, takes Dean down farther as he sucks, and the noise of pure animal pleasure Dean makes shivers through him. When he slides another finger inside, crooks them both just so, Dean starts to babble.

It's been nearly three months since this thing between them began, and with Sam gone there's plenty of time late at night, or early in the morning, or even on afternoons like this one. And as incredible as Cas finds sex, the startling flare of pleasure that comes with orgasm, his favorite thing is perhaps the way Dean responds. When they're in bed together -- although Cas learned early on that a bed is not necessarily required -- Dean holds nothing back, shamelessly sensual and usually vocal about it.

And yet Cas has never, not once, seen Dean respond like this. He's quivering from head to toe, fine thrills just beneath the skin, shaking through his tensed muscles, and he's sweating all over again. But more than that, he's actually keening, half-formed words sobbed out between inarticulate pleading noises, and Cas is so aroused again, he's rutting into the sheet, desperate for the friction.

When Dean comes, sudden and explosive, it surprises both of them. Cas gags a little as Dean's hips buck, and the wounded roar that's torn from Dean's chest is so startling, Cas is spilling onto the sheets before he can stop it, a vicious little pulse of pleasure and a blurt of what Dean calls spunk.

Dean doesn't spill much, either, but his whole body has seized up, straining through the aftershocks, and when he finally sags back into the mattress, he's so winded, he sounds like he does after an all-out fight.

Cas pulls his fingers free gently, careful to stay away from Dean's balls and cock, and wipes his mouth on the back of his other hand as he crawls up the bed and settles down next to Dean again. Dean twitches when Cas slides an arm over his belly, but he settles quickly enough when Cas kisses him. He keeps it lazy, slow, and after a minute they're barely doing more than breathing against each other.

When Cas pulls away to lay his head on the pillow, Dean shivers a little, and Cas sits up again to grab the comforter. Dean curls into him gratefully when Cas snugs it around them both, and then turns onto his side to let Cas spoon up behind him. For long minutes, they simply lie together, heartbeats slowing and evening out into a rhythm, Cas's palm barely stroking Dean's belly and his nose buried in the bristly hair at Dean's nape.

When Dean murmurs, "Done now?" Cas is startled out of his thoughts, and Dean's tone is too drowsy to understand immediately.

"Too much?" he says, pressing the words into Dean's shoulder. He realizes he's tightened the arm he has slung around Dean's waist, too, and relaxes it with effort.

Dean huffs out a laugh. "Didn't say that, did I?"

"No," Cas agrees, grateful, and kisses Dean's shoulder this time. Still, he can't help pushing, just a little. "So ... you liked it?"

In the silence, Cas believes he can almost hear Dean's eyes rolling. He can certainly picture it well enough.

"You know, I'm gonna have to start telling people angels are pretty dumb," he says finally, shifting to his back so he can look up at Cas with a lazy grin. "No one'll believe it at first, but then they'll put it together with the lousy sense of humor and the crappy fashion sense and pretty soon ..." He shrugs his shoulders, as if he's helpless to prevent this eventuality.

Cas leans down and bites his nipple, and a laugh ripples out of his throat when Dean howls and cries uncle.

"Yeah, I liked it," Dean says softly, when they've settled down again. And when Cas has kissed him again, slow and deep, tasting and savoring before Dean slides into sleep, he adds, "You big moron."

Cas smiles. He can live with that.


End file.
